Where Is She?
by Harley Quinn246
Summary: A story from Jonny Frost's perspective. Going through the whole movie through his perspective finding Harley Quinn.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: When the scene opens on the Joker sitting with his head bowed, you can hear Harley's laugh faintly in the background, like he's hearing her laugh in his head-it helped me write this one shot. Hope you guys enjoy, though it's rather sad.

Johnny Frost entered the elevator and pressed the button that would take him up to the penthouse. He leaned against the wall and took off his sunglasses, staring blankly at the door in front of him as the elevator soundlessly and smoothly moved up floor after floor.

It had been months now since Harley Quinn had disappeared. Frost had sent out the best people he could find to track her down for the Joker but it was as if the woman had disappeared off the face of the earth. There were moments when Frost wondered if the Bat had finally given in to revenge and gotten rid of her, yet the boss hadn't even seemed to entertain the possibility. J had never told him the exact circumstances of Quinn's disappearance, only that the Bat had been involved. At first the Joker had seemed to expect her to reappear on her own-but the longer she was gone the more uncharacteristic and strange (relatively strange) his behavior became. Frost had suspected his boss had never been the same man after meeting the psychiatrist known as Harleen Quinzel at Arkham and bringing her back-with a new name-to rule Gotham next to him. The past few months had only confirmed his suspicion.

No one had seen the Joker for over three days now. Any messages and calls Frost made went unanswered and his instinct told him to stay away from the penthouse. At first he had tried to take care of things himself but people were starting to ask questions he couldn't answer and he knew better than to make any big decisions without J's approval. After a shootout at the club that night, there was nothing else to be done but attempt to talk to the Joker face to face. Frost knew he was the most loyal and competent right hand man J could ever hope to find. Hopefully J remembered that. Johnny hadn't been scared of the boss (for the most part) or death for a long time, but he still enjoyed life. He'd hate to leave it.

The elevator opened on to the small entrance hallway to the penthouse and Frost stepped out. As soon as the elevator doors slid shut behind him, he heard a loud crash behind the door to the penthouse. He paused for a short second before raising his hand and knocking on the door. "Boss?" There was no answer, just another loud crash. He thought he might have heard J's voice as well, or a groan, but he couldn't be sure.

He hesitated for one more second before making up his mind. Frost was not a man who ever waited long before making his decisions. Indecision was never rewarded in his profession.

He reached out and turned the doorknob, intuition telling him it would be unlocked. It opened with a faint creak, revealing the dimly lit front room. Frost entered and stopped on the step, door hanging open behind him, his gaze moving across the room in shock.

The room was trashed. All the furniture lay upended and gutted with what looked like knife slashes to Frost. Drinks from the turned over minibar had stained the floor. Open bottles and broken ones, smashed dishes and wine glasses, and other various litter and glass were scattered across the floor. The grand piano looked as if a bat had been taken to it. There was writing all over the walls.

Frost's eyes fell on a pile of seemingly random objects collected in a pile. Guns, knives, full bottles of alcohol...baby clothes? Most ominous of all, he saw that the paraphernalia in the pile had begun to be arranged in orderly, concentric circles in the middle of the room. The Joker was a man of chaos. If the boss was starting to put things in order, Frost knew something was seriously, dangerously wrong.

He heard another groan, clearly audible this time, and his eyes snapped over to one of the upended couches close to the wall, half hidden by the battered grand piano. He stepped down and crossed the room, glass and paper crunching underneath his shoes. Frost stepped around the couch and looked down at the huddled figure of the Joker lying against it, one hand clutching the torn fabric and the other holding his head.

J looked up at him blearily through bloodshot eyes. The man was drunk-blackout drunk, and Johnny had never seen him even slightly inebriated. The only time he ever saw the boss drink was at the club or discussing business, and even then it was as if J only showed any interest in it for the show. Frost supposed that when you were already crazy and didn't care about anything in the world, you didn't need alcohol to handle it.

"Where is she?" the Joker asked him. Frost had no clue how the boss was still able to talk. His clothes were rumpled and stained, his usually slicked back hair disheveled-yet another sight that Frost had never witnessed before tonight. The Joker might have been a man of chaos, but his living quarters and appearance were always immaculately attended to.

"Where is she?" he asked Frost again. "I want her."

Frost slowly knelt next to him. "We're still looking for her, boss," he said quietly. "We haven't found her yet."

J groaned again and hung his head against the couch, shutting his eyes. "I want her. I want her. Find her. Find her, Frost."

"I will, boss," Frost said. "We're gonna find her." He fell silent, considering the man in front of him.

He watched as J rocked back and forth, twisting and clutching at his green hair. The thought crossed his mind that he had the most powerful and dreaded person in Gotham City at his disposal, at his mercy, if he had had any reason for or interest in taking advantage of it. If he hadn't been sure that the boss was so drunk he wouldn't remember a second of the night in the morning, he would have left for another city now, because he was almost certain that J couldn't let him live after seeing the man like this.

"I want her, I want her...I need her...where is she...where is she..." the boss muttered, still rocking against the couch. He seemed to have already forgotten Frost was there.

"We'll bring her back, boss," Frost said, still kneeling on the ground and waiting for a sign of how to safely handle the situation. "We'll find her."

J moved his hand away and looked at him again. The man didn't look like he'd slept at all the past few nights either-yet the usually insane look in his eyes had been replaced by a dead, hopeless one.

"I left her," J said to him. "I left her...I thought she'd be _fine..._ I thought she'd be _fine,_ Frost...I thought she'd come back..."

Johnny had no idea what J was talking about. He stayed silent, waiting. "She can't swim...I knew she couldn't swim...why'd I do that, Frost...why'd I leave her..."

"I don't know," Frost answered, hoping it was an acceptable answer because it was the only one he could give.

"She was scared...she was scared...she's never scared..." J's words became unintelligible for a moment before Frost could hear them again. "Is she dead Frost...did I kill her...is that why she's haunting me...tell me..."

"No, boss. I don't think she's dead," Johnny said, and he wasn't lying. He didn't believe that Quinn was dead. Even though he had wondered if the Bat had gotten rid of her, he didn't really believe it. If Quinn was dead, they would have found out about it by now. J stared at him before leaning against the couch again, shivering.

Frost was not a man of many emotions. It was probably why he and the boss got along so well. Yet as he looked down at the huddled heap of the Joker in front of him, he became aware of feeling something he couldn't really remember ever feeling-pity. Pity for the pale king who had lost his queen.

"Why don't we get you up and in bed, boss?" Frost asked. "You look like you could use some sleep."

J flinched and grimaced, holding his hand up in front of his face again. "Not in that room...not in that bed where we...where we..." J stopped and bowed his head, shuddering. "It's hell in there without her...don't take me in there..."

Frost felt the pity again. "Alright. Gimme a sec." He stood up and walked over to the other couch, what was left of its legs sticking up in the air. He turned it back over and considered the slashed cushions, deciding they would be comfortable enough for a drunk man who had no idea where he was. He walked back over to J, who looked up at him helplessly.

He knelt back down again to put his hands under the boss's arms to lift him up when J started and looked around wildly, grabbing his arm. "Did you hear that, Frost? Did you hear her? I heard her laughing..."

"No, J," Johnny said quietly, moving the boss's hand from his arm. "I can't hear her."

The Joker's face fell. "I can hear her laughing...I keep hearing her laughing...all the time." He paused and stared up at Frost. "That's right...it's only in my head...it's not real..." He went even more limp as Frost tried to lift him. "I just want to hear her laugh again," Frost heard him say faintly.

Frost couldn't take the feeling of pity anymore. "C'mon, boss. I'm gonna help you up and you're gonna get some rest." He finally managed to pull J up from the floor. Frost was much taller and heavier than his boss, but the boss was more muscular and heavier than he looked, especially when dead weight.

J leaned limply against him and stumbled as Frost dragged him across the room, lowering him as carefully as he could on to the couch (a difficult task) so J was lying on his stomach, head turned towards the room. Frost pulled over an empty wastebasket and stuck it beside the couch-if the boss ended up puking, Johnny would probably be the one cleaning it in the morning-before looking around for a blanket. He was sure J wouldn't know the difference, but the nagging pity in his chest as he looked down at the shaking figure made him do this one last thing for his boss.

He walked to the door on the other side of the front room, the one that led to the Joker and Harley Quinn's bedroom. It had been a while since the last rare occasion he'd been inside, and whenever he was it was brief. He stepped inside and turned on the light. Once more that night, he stopped in surprise.

Clothes and shoes and jewelry were piled throughout the room, pulled from the closet and left on the floor, draped messily over the unmade bed. They were all Harley's clothes-clothes Frost had seen her wear while dancing at the club and clothes she'd worn in the middle of run-ins with the law or the Bat. His eyes also fell on pajamas and negligees and other clothes he hadn't seen, clothes that in any other circumstances would have left him both intrigued and uncomfortable. He stepped over to the bed and tried to find a loose blanket, pushing aside the piles of clothes, when his eye caught the brightly colored make-up streaks all over them. At first he thought it was left over from whenever Harley had last worn them-until he remembered that she hadn't been here to wear them in months, until he realized that the make-up was still fresh. He closed his eyes, the pity washing over him again, as the embarrassingly private image of J kneeling by the bed trying to catch Harley's scent flashed into his mind.

Frost finally found a musty blanket folded in the closet and went back out to the front room. J's eyes were closed as Frost unfolded the blanket and tossed it over him, looking down at him for a few more moments and around the room before starting to walk towards the door.

"Find her, Frost," he heard J murmur. When he looked behind him he saw a desperate look in J's eyes before they closed again.

"I will, boss," Frost said. "I promise." J didn't answer but Frost was sure he'd heard. Not that he would remember in the morning.

Frost walked out the still open front door and shut it quietly behind him before getting back on the elevator. _I'll close down the club for a few days while I find someone else to supervise,_ he thought.

The elevator opened, dropping him off on his hall, and he walked towards his room to get started on finding the Joker's girl. The next time J asked "Where is she?" Frost was going to have an answer-if only to stop that horrible feeling of pity in his chest.


	2. The Morning After

A/N: So which one of you guys was going to tell me that I've been spelling (and apparently reading) Jonny Frost's name wrong all of this time?! Just kidding. ;) Not sure if I"ll keep spelling it the same way or change it to how it's supposed to be spelled-hopefully it doesn't bug you guys too much haha

Johnny stepped out of the elevator into the entrance hallway of the penthouse. He paused, mentally preparing himself for whatever state he'd find the boss in.

He'd been up for the majority of the night, determined to put every ounce of energy and resources he had in to the revamped mission of tracking down Harley Quinn-before the Joker ended up shooting himself or drinking himself to death and Johnny found himself out of a job. He'd sent out almost every man on the team to every state, had started establishing contact with every colorful character in Gotham City that was considered a "bad guy" (though he was having a hard time finding many of them). Cataloged every prison and government facility he could find; had the hackers on the team working overtime. He'd also calculated just how much money they could spare to bribe some good guys for information.

Frost had wanted to discover Quinn's location before seeing the boss again but decided it would be a smart choice to at least check up on J after how drunk the man had been last night. Since Quinn wasn't there to take care of the boss, Frost supposed that responsibility now fell on him for the time being.

He gave a proprietary knock and opened the door, walking in to the still dimly lit room to find the boss vomiting into the wastebasket that Frost had (wisely) put next to the couch the night before. He stopped beside the couch and waited, J's body convulsing as he retched.

"Get me something, Frost," J said when he was finally able to speak, voice still thick and slurred. "Before all of my guts are in this." He bent his head and coughed up what looked and smelled like pure vodka to Frost.

"Sure thing," Johnny said, heading towards the kitchen. He stopped and sighed when he walked in. "Jesus, J...how'd you manage to survive before you had your lady to take care of you?" he muttered. Take-out boxes and dirty dishes covered the marble counter tops. He started opening the cabinets, searching for anything that would help a hangover. He finally managed to find some aspirin and a few other drugs. He decided to search the refrigerator next and tentatively opened the door. "God _damn_ , J," he said, not even bothering to keep his voice down. "What the hell?" Everything inside looked like it was months old. He sighed again and started pulling out all the liquids he could find that still looked semi-consumable for a human. Before he left the kitchen he grabbed the trashcan next to the counter and carried it out too.

He headed back to the living room with the stash and pulled over what was left of the coffee table next to the couch's armrest near J's head, which J was now clutching in his hands. He set all the bottles and glasses on the table before carefully moving the near full wastebasket aside. He wasn't a squeamish person-he couldn't be, doing the kind of things his particular job required-but these were new shoes and he'd prefer to not get puke on them. J coughed and Johnny quickly slid the other trash can next to the couch just in time for J to lean over again and throw up enough half-digested alcohol to fill a good third of the trashcan. "Christ," Johnny said under his breath, holding the edge of the trash can so none of the stuff would get on the floor. "Just how much did you drink last night, boss?"

J didn't answer, just barely shook his head as he kept puking. "I found some liquid meds in there," Frost said when J had stopped again. "I don't think you're gonna be able to swallow any of the pills. And I managed to dig out some water and ginger ale from the fridge. You're gonna need it, boss."

J held out his hand wordlessly and Frost handed him one of the bottles. The boss slowly brought it to his mouth and drank some of it before letting it drop to the floor, head still hovering above the trashcan. "Try some water," Johnny said, practically having to wrap J's hand around the bottle. J clumsily brought it to his lips and swallowed a few sips before promptly spitting out half of it on himself and the couch. "Shit," Johnny swore. "You're killin' me right now, boss." The Joker opened his eyes and looked up at him, that helpless look in his eye. _He looks like a child._ The thought flickered through Johnny's mind so quickly he was barely aware of it. _He's like a child right now._

He straightened up and sighed. "Alright. We'll try again later." _If you haven't died from alcohol poisoning._ He looked around the room, which somehow looked even more trashed than the night before. _Guess I can kill two birds with one stone-get all this out of here and keep an eye on him. Check in on any progress made in between._

Frost went to work cleaning up the room as best he could, knowing it was going to take up a good amount of time. He supposed he'd have to tackle the kitchen at some point too. He propped up the top of the grand piano against the wall, which was the only part of it that hadn't been smashed in to pieces. He swept up the shattered glass and other litter scattered throughout the room, going to work on the stains in the carpet in between putting all the trash in bags. He had plenty of practice getting blood out of the carpet-often this carpet-and alcohol stains were easy compared to that. The only things he didn't touch were the pile in the middle of the room and the things J had begun arranging in circles. He knew not to touch those. The only sounds he heard from the boss were him vomiting periodically into the trash can, though it became less and less frequent the longer Frost was there. Maybe the medicine had actually helped.

Eventually he regarded the slashed up pieces of furniture. Those were going to be a bitch to drag out to the elevator by himself. He sighed and then knelt down by the couch so J could hear him. "I'm gonna be going in and out, boss. Getting all this other stuff out of here. Just letting you know."

J opened his eyes and reached out to grip his arm. "What did I say last night, Frost?" J asked, hopeless and dead look in his eyes again and voice still slurred.

Johnny was about to say "nothing" when J gripped his arm tighter and stared intently at him. "Don't...lie...Frost." _Son of a bitch. Does he actually remember any of it?_ Frost wondered in disbelief.

"You said...you said things that'll never leave this room," Frost said. "I swear."

J relaxed and let go of Frost's arm, closing his eyes and nodding imperceptibly. Frost stood up and started dragging the first knife slashed chair towards the door.

By the time Frost had finished lugging the furniture up and down the elevator-a few hours long process-to the garbage bin behind the hotel (periodically checking to see any progress that had been made finding Quinn) J had managed to move to a sitting position on the couch, slumped over with his elbows on his knees holding his head in his hands, muttering unintelligibly to himself again. Johnny wouldn't be surprised if he was still half drunk.

"How about we get you cleaned up some, boss?" he suggested. J moaned in response. "Come on," Frost said, hoping some cold water would finally bring J around. He reached down and once again lifted the boss up to a standing position. Luckily J could support himself slightly better than the night before, though he was still unsteady on his feet. "Arm across my shoulder, boss," Frost said, bowing his head and pulling J's arm up. "That's it." Frost helped him stumble down the hall, his head still hanging down and eyes closed, other arm holding his stomach every time he coughed. _For the love of Christ, don't puke on me, boss._

As they neared the master bedroom, J moaned again and started to struggle weakly against Frost. "No. _No._ "

"I know, boss. I'm real sorry about this. I'm begging you to not kill me," Johnny said. J went limp again.

Frost managed to swing the door open and drag J as quickly as he could past the bed and all the clothes to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and lowering J down fully clothed into the shower. "I'm real sorry, boss," he apologized again before turning the handle all the way to cold and switching the shower head on.

J sputtered and gasped as the torrent of freezing water hit him, shaking his head and flailing wildly. _There we go_ , Frost thought. He let the water run for a while longer before turning the handle to make the water slightly warmer.

"Think you can clean yourself up and get dressed, boss?" Frost asked. J blinked up at him and nodded slowly, looking slightly more alert. "Okay. I'll be back."

He went to work cleaning up the kitchen while he gave J a chance to get cleaned up, shaking his head and muttering at the mess. After a half hour he headed back to the bedroom.

He opened the door to see J lying on the bed among the piles of clothes, clutching the sheets on what must been Harley's side. How he'd managed to stumble all the way over there, Frost didn't know. His hair was still wet and he'd managed to dress himself, which gave Frost some relief until he realized J had put on the clothes he'd been wearing the night Harley had disappeared.

"Damn you...damn you," J was saying. "Why'd you do this to me, baby...why don't you come home..."

 _God...this poor bastard_ , Frost thought before quickly stepping over to the bed. J looked up at him and the look in the Joker's eye sent a chill up Frost's spine. It was a look he'd seen animals give when they were stuck in a trap, the look that usually meant it was more merciful to put them out of their misery than to set them free.

"Get me out of here," J whispered. "Get me out."

"No problem." He lifted J from the bed, pulling J's arm over his shoulder again. He noticed J was clutching something gold in his hand-an ankle bracelet. It must have been something Quinn was wearing that night.

After they made it back to the front room, Johnny moved to lower J back on to the couch-but J pulled himself free and stumbled over to the pile of random objects in the middle of the room. Johnny watched, feeling that chill move up his spine again, as J went back to carefully arranging it all in circles, wanting to leave but not able to move his eyes away from the scene.

"Leave me alone until you find her." They were the first words Frost had heard him say all day that came out semi clearly. "If you don't-don't come back. I won't be here. Leave me here to rot." The dead and hopeless look was back in his eyes again. He stopped arranging the knives for a moment, bowing his head and closing his eyes, seemingly already forgetting Frost's presence. Frost wondered if he was hearing Quinn laughing again. Then he went back to pulling everything from the pile.

Johnny turned around wordlessly and headed towards the door. The last thing he saw as he pulled the door shut behind him was J sitting down in the middle of the circle and looking down at Harley's bracelet in his hand before bringing it slowly to his mouth and pressing his lips against it.

Frost got in the elevator and pressed the button for his floor rapidly, over and over again in frustration, more unsettled than he could ever remember being. _I'm gonna find you, Quinn. Before your man blows his brains out over you._


	3. That's Where She Is

A/N: Hey! Sorry this took so long (again) and I'm sorry it's so short, but I never thought it would be a long chapter anyway. If you guys would want something longer I could work on it. To the guest who spotted that Frost had a wedding ring on-I already planned how that would be worked into the story; thanks for confirming he was married for me. :)

Frost stepped in to the elevator and hurriedly pressed the button to the penthouse and the button that would close the doors. He'd done it. After months of searching, he'd finally found her location. It was going to take some explaining and the situation was much more complicated than he would ever have expected, something he knew the boss wouldn't have much patience for, but he'd found her.

It hadn't taken him long since finding the Joker in the wreck of the apartment, but when the boss seemed to be on the verge of suicide every second to Frost had felt like he was racing the clock, trying to dismantle a bomb or grenade. He only hoped that he wouldn't walk in to find J's brains all over the room, or the boss lying in a pool of blood or hanging from the ceiling. Jonny didn't know why he cared so much, but he didn't have the time or interest to figure it out. All he wanted was the boss to be his old lunatic self again instead of this strange, broken mess. He was ready for things to go back to normal. He wanted to feel like a real right hand man again.

Frost didn't bother knocking. He slid the key card in and shut the door quickly behind him. At the sound of the lock clicking shut, J raised his gun at Frost and lifted his head, inhaling sharply. With well trained eyes and years of experience at taking in his surroundings and any potential dangers, Jonny took in the circle of assorted weaponry and seemingly random objects now filling the room as well as the man sitting in the center of the circle. It extended all the way to and up the stairs Frost was standing on; even more weapons and paraphernalia that hadn't been able to fit inside were arranged in squares or rectangles outside of it. A single light bulb sat in the center next to J-Frost supposed that that was the only light J had been using at night since he'd smashed most of the lamps and overhead lights. Then knives, guns...and then, an odd addition of beauty in the midst of all the objects of violence: blood red roses...more knives and guns, a line of tablets and computers from the study (Frost should have known that J would be searching too), J's decks of cards. Alcohol bottles, unopened and opened (there was a glass of wine sitting by the large sofa chair, Harley's chair-the only chair that J hadn't taken a knife to). And those baby clothes...what the hell was going on with those baby clothes? Where had they come from and why the hell would J have them around?

Frost calmly stepped forward, never taking his eyes off the boss or the gun pointed straight at him. He heard the boss give a low growl-of satisfaction or annoyance Frost wasn't sure. Hopefully the former. Frost wondered if J had had a gun in his hand in case anyone unwelcome came in to the apartment or if he'd discovered Quinn's location just in time. Right before the boss had lifted his head, Frost had noticed that it had been bowed, eyes closed...he wondered if J had been hearing Quinn laughing again. He had at least changed clothes since Frost had last seen him. He'd also drawn a large black smile around his mouth, causing a look of stark contrast to the angry, pained looking eyes and scowling face, a face that shone wetly...almost as if it was wet with tears...

Frost lowered himself down on the step and J lowered the gun.

"Where is she?" he asked, voice low and intense, the hint of a growl still underneath. The question that had started it all. This time Frost had an answer.

"It's complex," Frost began. "This is not just her. Everybody's disappearing."

As he explained he watched the effects of the confirmation that Quinn was alive. J looked down for a second and closed his eyes, still rocking himself slightly, before rolling his head back and letting out a long breath, then lowered his head again, the relief practically radiating off of him.

"There's this new law where if you're a bad enough bad guy they stamp terrorist on your jacket, and they send you to this swamp in Louisiana. A black site. That's where she is." Johnny paused, leaving a moment to let the information sink in and hang in the air between them as J opened his eyes again and the two men looked at each other-one's eyes full of rare, genuine sympathy and the other's full of frustration, tentative acceptance and eagerness mixed with wary disbelief. Frost experienced the odd feeling of reaching the end of one job and the beginning of another simultaneously before he spoke again, ready to end the past few days of giving orders and direction and go back to taking them, knowing the boss would already be constructing a plan in his crazy head: "So what are we doin'?"

"Bring the car around," J said, rousing himself from the daze Frost's information had caused, saying the words with effort and seemingly struggling to draw breath. "We're goin' for a drive."

Frost watched as J fell back to the floor, gazing unseeingly at the ceiling, looking and sounding as if he'd been dropped from a great height and had the wind knocked from his chest and lungs. He watched as J's face contorted into the classic Joker smile and J began to laugh,the sound echoing creepily around the room. The laugh ended in what almost sounded like a cry.

As he watched the Joker lying limp and prostrate on the ground in front of him, Frost thought he had never seen a more broken man or heard a more broken sound in his life.


End file.
